


Loving You Against My Will

by Trista_zevkia



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Superman (Comics), Superman - All Media Types, Superman/Batman (Comics), World's Finest (Comics)
Genre: Alien Biology, Anal Play, Dubious Science, First Time, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-07
Updated: 2015-05-07
Packaged: 2018-03-29 10:47:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3893518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trista_zevkia/pseuds/Trista_zevkia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce's injury isn't life threatening, but it gets Clark thinking about what he wants, verses what can have. Clark goes for it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Loving You Against My Will

**Author's Note:**

> Previously posted elsewhere, just dusted off. Was originally a song fic but I took that part out. So now, only title comes from the Gary Allen song of the same name.

The little alien invaders of this tropical moon were only four foot tall, but had six arms and four legs. Individually they were hard to fight with only four limbs, but billions of them had landed on this planet. They bent and twisted like tall grass in a tornado, evading most punches and kicks.

Kal-el, last son of Krypton, grabbed as many as he could and took off for the stratosphere. Once they realized what was happening, they could either jump or suffocate into unconsciousness. Still, he only managed about ten on each trip and could be at this for years. On trips back down, he took stock of the situation. The Flash, for all his speed, was still having trouble landing a good punch, and there was nowhere to run. Every time J’onn shape shifted the aliens latched onto his new form like starving dogs on a bone. 

As usual, Batman was giving the best accounting, despite lacking super strength or speed. He was learning the timing of his opponents and, as if sensing the threat he posed, they responded by tripling the numbers around him. They swarmed his arms even as Clark headed over to assist. Arms weighted down by countless aliens, Batman started kicking. A couple of solid, connecting kicks and they took out his supporting leg. Batman was buried under a pile of multi-limbed aliens and Superman was still so far away. 

Clark got through his days by compartmentalizing his mind, emotions disassociated from reason, but all that vanished when he saw Bruce under a pile of hostile aliens. Heart in his mouth he waited for something to happen as he headed that way. A jet of ice reached out from where Batman was buried and Clark wondered when Batman had duplicated Mr. Freeze’s gun. One of those fancy round kicks brought Batman to his feet and his voice was in the comm. system. 

“Cold. They don’t like cold.” 

Finally close enough to help, Batman saw him and they locked eyes for a moment before Batman disappeared under his cape. An intake of air and an arctic wind emerged from Clark. Flash had figured out how to run on top of the aliens, running so fast he created a cold wind of his own. Before Clark could check on J’onn the aliens were running back to their ship. 

They were allowed to retreat, as the JLA was gracious in victory, though Superman did encourage them with a cool breeze. Satisfied, he turned to ask Batman about the freeze gun and realized he had moved while the others watched the aliens. That was unlike him, as he usually liked to make sure that the enemy was defeated before he returned to the Javelin. When he located Batman he noticed a strange movement that had him speeding that way before he realized it. Batman did it again; he limped. Clark was scanning him even as he picked Bruce up in his arms. 

“I could have walked.” The voice was sure, almost making Clark believe it was just his fears about Bruce getting injured that had made him see a limp. Bruce’s feet and legs were unbroken, but blood was flowing to the pelvis as something swelled. Bruce sighed, stiff as a board in his arms. “You could have at least picked me up in a more dignified position.” 

Clark only shrugged as he waited for the Javelin to unlock and open its doors. Finally, he was seeking a distraction as they waited on the biobed in the Javelin to complete its diagnostic. He needed to keep Batman still when he threatened to move, so Clark got to ask. “Why do you have a freeze ray?” 

“It was just pressurized liquid helium, not a freeze ray, and I use if for locks that don’t need to be relocked.” The biobed beeped, saving Clark from an ignorant question and insulting response. 

“It says your injuries are not life threatening but you should see a doctor.” Clark’s irritation at a machine was much greater than it should have been. 

“I know that, that’s why I didn’t want to sit here for this.” Clark started pressing buttons as Bruce climbed off the biobed. “Leave it be; the biobed is mainly for puncture wounds and life threatening emergencies.” 

Clark sighed, half convinced that Bruce was safe if the Biobed couldn’t help, until Batman moved toward the seats. He limped. 

Clark saw to it that Bruce was seated before dealing with the locals as quickly as possible. Gathering Wally and J’onn, they got back to Earth as fast as that Javelin could fly. With Bruce standing on his foot and an arm wrapped around his shoulders, he escorted Batman through the Watchtower, with concern for his dignity. They teleported to the Batcave, where Clark had to let Bruce go. 

As Bruce changed, Clark found Alfred and told him exactly what happened. They entered the cave together just in time to see Bruce trying to take his pants off without moving his hips. Alfred helped while Clark intently studied the monitors. Clark was forced to intercede when Bruce kept trying to convince Alfred that he could rest in the cave. With a stern scowl on his face, Clark picked up the silk robed Bruce, without regard to his dignity, and carried him upstairs, to bed. 

Since the injury was not life threatening, Clark was willing to leave Bruce for the night. He did, however, threaten to wear his uniform and carry Bruce to the hospital if he didn’t see a doctor. The press would have a field day and too much serious attention might poke holes in Bruce’s ‘weird sports related injury’ excuses. So Bruce glowered and grumbled but agreed to see a doctor. 

“Tomorrow.” Clark commanded. 

“Soon.” Bruce countered. 

“Tomorrow!” Clark demanded. 

Bruce sighed heavily. “Fine. Tomorrow, if I can get in to see the doctor.” 

Clark glanced at Alfred puttering about the room. He offered his services to the great force that was hidden behind the butler title. “You know how to reach me if you need me.” 

“But of course, Sir.” Was all Alfred had to say, but Clark felt comfortable leaving the situation in his capable hands. 

sB _Sb_ Bs

Planet bound troubles kept him busy for the next several days. He thought of Bruce even more frequently than he normally did, but lacked the time to visit. When things finally calmed down it was time for the weekly JL meeting, and he put off sleeping in order to attend. Batman didn’t attend. After the intolerably long meeting ended, Clark told everybody he needed his rest and scarpered. 

If anybody were to ask why the teleporter put him in Gotham, it was just because he was so tired he had put in the wrong codes. Still, he was really close, so he headed for the Batcave. He almost went to the door of Wayne Manor, but Bruce wouldn’t have appreciated him arriving in uniform. He didn’t expect Bruce to be in the cave at this time of day but the computer was on and the screens changed even as he registered them. 

He settled by the high-backed chair as Bruce slowly turned to face him. His hair was oily; he had a good start on a beard and smelled as if he hadn’t showered in a week. Bruce straightened the dingy black silk robe before speaking. 

“Do you need my help?” 

“Not when you look and smell like so much crap.” 

It was a lie, but only a little lie. Bruce’s handsome features were hidden behind hair but those eyes still commanded attention. He might not look as good as he normally did, but he was still beautiful and Clark would always need him. 

“My brain still works.” Bruce shot back as he turned back to his keyboard. Clark shifted his line of thought. The first few responses to that snarky statement would have just lead to a fight. Bruce probably wanted a good fight after being cooped up here for so long. 

“What did the doctor say?” 

“Strained pelvic tendons, ice and rest.” Bruce discounted this idea with a shrug. Then he reached down and picked up a sloshing ice pack from the floor. “Since you’re here…”

Clark took the ice pack, not sure if Bruce wanted him to refill or refreeze it. Suddenly he had an idea he acted on before he could finish thinking it through. 

“Let me try this instead.” He said as he turned Bruce to face him. Kneeling, he flipped the robe aside and used his finger to shove the left leg of the boxers into a bunch at the top. The finger holding the boxers back casually came to rest on the shaft of Bruce’s penis. A voice in the back of Clark’s mind was screaming. ‘I’m touching Bruce’s penis!’ 

Still, his face was very composed and his brain was compartmentalized as he leaned forward and blew a focused breath of cold air at Bruce’s inflamed tendons. Memorizing everything was just natural to him, but he was aware of the sound of Bruce’s hands squeezing the arms of the chair and the sudden acceleration of Bruce’s heart. His own heart was increasing its tempo as it prepared to send blood to equipment that wasn’t used as often as he would like. Clark moved his finger just a little bit, as it needed to change positions. It was most defiantly not a minute caress. Little Bruce twitched in response and big Bruce moaned with pain. Clark jerked away, hoping he had heard wrong. 

“Are you OK? That didn’t help your swollen ligaments?” He sounded lame, stupid, and panicky to his own ears and he expected an insulting answer. Instead Bruce was taking a really long time to formulate a response, which meant he was thinking hard. 

“It’s fine, Clark. I think I should just stick to regular ice though.” Clark waited for more and was just starting to suspect Bruce wasn’t going to say what was on his mind when the door to the house opened. A quick glance showed Alfred getting into the elevator with a heavy tray. Clark was there when the elevator opened and traded the old ice pack for the tray. 

“Hello Alfred. I guess you didn’t need my help after all.” 

“Actually Master Kent, when we returned from the doctor I left Master Bruce in the library. After preparing lunch I had to track Master Bruce to where you see him now. Since that time he has neither bathed nor returned to his bed. The days when I could simply carry him to bed are, regrettably, behind me.” 

“Why didn’t you call me?” 

“Every time I mentioned it, Master Bruce would simply show me what you were doing at that moment. From the news footage, I must say you have had a very busy go of it lately.” 

Clark laughed. “I was busy, and naturally Bruce used that to his advantage. Well, I’m here now and ready for some heavy lifting.” 

Bruce seemed to be ignoring their conversation, but both men knew he heard every word. This was confirmed when he glared at Clark after that statement. Clark glared back even as he politely asked Alfred. “Where would you like him?” 

“The bathtub off the Master bedroom, I should think Sir.” Alfred wrinkled his nose at the stink even as he took the tray back and went to the elevator. Clark scooped up the impatient patient and sped him up the stairs. He sat Bruce on the toilet as he filled the tub with hot water and bubbles. 

“I’ll help you undress in a moment.” He called over his shoulder, reinforcing his mental compartments as he spoke. There was a long moment of silence before Bruce started struggling out of his clothes. Clark turned to find a naked Bruce with his hands demurely covering his lap. He was NOT looking at Clark and Clark was NOT looking at him. Clark carried Bruce to bathtub and got to hear. 

“Bubbles, Clark?” 

“They were beside your bathtub.” His voice was just a little defensive. 

“They’re a Brucie prop, for guests.” 

Clark was saved having to answer or think about guests in Bruce’s bathroom by the discreet arrival of Alfred. The butler found and placed shaving equipment on the edge of the tub Bruce now occupied. He then gathered up the unused towels. 

“When I feel you have had adequate time to soak the grim off, I shall bring you some fresh towels, Sir.” 

Clark choked back his laughter and scooted out after Alfred. Amazing how the man could turn a nice thing like clean towels into a threat and rebuke. Alfred had more influence on Batman than he probably realized. 

“So what did the doctor really say?” He asked in a rather quiet voice considering Bruce didn’t have super hearing. Though he wouldn’t have put it past Bruce to bug his own bedroom, it was more a question of having the receiver available for use. 

“Six weeks of rest, alternating heat and ice therapies for the first week, physical therapy after that and pills for pain and inflammation. Naturally Master Bruce refuses the pills and I doubt he will see four weeks of rest. It seems to him a ‘great deal of trouble for a piece of equipment that often attempts to counteract will and mission.’” 

Clark could hear Bruce saying the last bit of that line and knew Alfred was quoting him. “What piece of equipment? What exactly is wrong with Bruce?” 

Clark had a quick impression of Alfred trying not to laugh, before the mask of professional Butler descended again. “If Master Bruce has not chosen to share that information, I’m afraid it may be a disservice to him if I enlightened you.” 

“Maybe.” Clark acknowledged. “But as a colleague capable of protecting him it’s in his best interest that I know. That way I can adequately plan, should this piece of equipment cause him to act contrary to his stated mission.” 

“A fair point, Sir.” Alfred conceded gladly. “Your reasoning would convince Master Bruce himself. It seems that when the aliens took out his standing leg, it went opposite his kicking leg but at an unusual angle. Even as flexible as he is, there are still some ways a body should not bend. Master Bruce has what is commonly referred to as a ‘groin pull.’” 

He wanted to laugh at hearing Alfred say ‘groin’ but restrained himself with deep breaths before speaking. 

“How exactly does Bruce’s, um… “ Clark found he couldn’t bring himself to say groin to Alfred. “Malfunctioning equipment counteract his will and mission?” 

Alfred inclined his head and spoke in a voice of finality. “That, you will definitely have to ask Master Bruce.” 

Once Bruce was dried and dressed, Clark reentered the bathroom and carried him to bed. Alfred provided a chair for Clark and supper for them both. Bruce kept the conversation on business, superhero and alternate identity, and nothing Clark said could change topics. Clark watched Alfred slip pills into Bruce’s drink and then watched Bruce fall asleep. He took his leave of Alfred, reminding him to call if needed. A couple of quick stops to help people kept Clark out until just after 2 A.M. 

He was incredibly tired when he finally made it to his bed and tried to welcome sleep. But with sleep came dreams. Clark’s mind was highly organized, categorizing and stacking things neatly together. When dreams took away that structure he was left with his true emotional responses to things. 

In his dream, he knelt before Bruce in the Batcave but instead of blowing, he sucked. Bruce moaned with pleasure instead of pain as the sucking intensified. An increase in tempo and a hand stroking the balls, and Bruce came in Clark’s mouth. Then they were in that enormous bed but instead of supper they were having dessert. 

He had Bruce pinned under him and was licking honey and whipped cream off his perfect body. Bruce squirmed, he wanted it so bad but Clark worked at his own tempo. Bruce loved it, allowed it because he knew that after they finished here, they would go ‘clean up.’ Which meant hot water swirling around them in that huge tub, making them exaggerate movements and find new ways of doing things. Bruce could hold his breath even with his mouth open and Clark came, waking up as he did so. The disappointment of it being a dream robbed him of the joy of the orgasm. 

Dawn light was reaching for his bed, but he got up before it could reach him. He closed the door and window of his tiny apartment bathroom. Dawn light made him feel too good and he needed to concentrate. He needed less sleep than humans, but he still needed restful sleep and the Bruce of his dreams kept preventing his sleep from being restful. So he needed to get Bruce out of his dreams, by getting Bruce out of his life. 

Was that the only thing he could do? Could he actually do it? Clark hardly ever saw Bruce, as he most often interviewed Brucie. But Batman was such a part of his other professional life, except he wouldn’t be for six weeks. Well, three or four anyway, as Bruce wasn’t about to let a little thing like doctor’s orders get in his way. Clark faced his haggard appearance in the mirror and spoke in his most commanding voice. 

“A clean break. No contact with Bruce or Batman. Neither Brucie nor Batman has the hold over you that Bruce does, so stop thinking about Bruce. You will stop listening to his heartbeat and wondering what his lips taste like. When Batman returns to active duty, Bruce will no longer exist.” His reflection nodded back at him and they turned to prepare for a new, Bruce-free day. 

sB _Sb_ Bs

Even in Gotham, the weather for Valentine’s Day had been perfect. Crisp and clear while the sun was out, allowing lovers to stroll through parks in the sunlight. When the sun disappeared into the west a cold wind kicked up, sending lovers into cozy houses with blazing fires in the fireplaces and the beds. Only the desperate and the desperately lonely would be out on a night like tonight. 

It was a bad time for a man with two dozen balloons, a dozen roses, and an enormous box of chocolates to go walking in the worst part of town. Juggling all that in a high wind kept him too occupied to notice the guys following him. When he turned into a dead-end alley, it took him a minute to realize it was wrong and when he turned his exit was blocked by six thugs too ugly to get steady dates. Ruining their faces even further, this alley was directly in the path of the Batman. 

They advanced on their target, threatening him loudly as Batman silently swooped down on them. The black cape blurred for less than a minute and Batman was finished. He was preparing his exit, without having once looked at the man he just saved when he whirled around into a fighting position at the sound of that voice. 

“My hero!” The voice was deeper than it usually was, but unmistakably the voice of Clark Kent. Batman rapidly closed the distance between them and growled into his face. 

“There are easier ways of getting my attention, unless you’ve forgotten them.” 

“Maybe I just wanted to see you work.” Clark grinned at him, too happy to care about the intimidating growl, or the reprimand for not visiting while he was healing. 

“What are you doing in my city?” Batman was irritated, mainly because none of his devices had noticed Clark entering his city. He got even more irritated when Clark answered the question he hadn’t asked. 

“Relax, I came on the train. This is purely a social visit. You see, I have found the love of my life, in Gotham City of all places!” He smiled expansively and waited for a response, except Batman didn’t respond. “Would you be interested in an introduction?” 

“Have you been exposed to any glowing rocks recently?” Batman was clearly suspicious of Kryptonite activity and distrusted the way Clark was acting. “What color would make you start acting silly?” 

“Sure, it started out about men who wore tights and capes to beat up bad guys, and then it got silly!” Clark’s laughter sounded giddy, until he swallowed it as Batman turned away. 

“Obviously you don’t want my help or you wouldn’t stand there misquoting Monty Python to me.” 

Clark was flabbergasted and dimly aware that was the first time he could remember finding that word appropriate. “You watch Monty Python?” 

Batman didn’t answer as he was returning to the roof of the apartment building. A second later and Clark was beside him again. “Look, I swear I haven’t been exposed to Kryptonite. I just thought that as it was Valentine’s Day, I would express my love like the rest of the world.” 

“Fine. Give me an address and we’ll meet there, as you are dressed for street level travel and I am not.” 

Clark chuckled again. “You just want to run a background check before you get there. Nope, I have a better idea.” 

He flung Batman over his shoulder so his perfect ass faced the stars and his cape flipped over his head. Clark then flew off at just the right speed to flutter that cape and limit Batman’s sight as much as possible. From the tension of the body on his shoulder, Clark knew he was lucky Batman still thought he was under some influence or other. 

When he reached their destination, he spun around several times just to further disorient Batman. Placing Batman back on his feet he stepped back and let him find his own way out of the cape. The gifts were released as no longer being necessary to Clark’s plan. Batman got his bearings and glared a demand for an explanation at Clark. He was standing in front of the three paneled floor length mirror in the walk-in closet of his bedroom in Wayne Manor. 

“I assume you will submit to testing now?” The question was a threat and Clark wondered if Batman kept Kryptonite here as well as in the cave. 

“Look Bruce, the only thing influencing me here, is you.” In response to these words, Bruce removed his cowl to better rub the bridge of his nose. “I love you. I have for years, and I’ve been fighting it that whole time. I tried to stop because the intensity of it scared me. I tried to distance myself from you, used your injury as an excuse. I’ve thought about you every second since, and my dreams? They used to be sexy and fun, now they’re just obscene and I don’t know where my brain gets those ideas. Bruce, I just need …”

Suddenly, there were too many things to say and it overwhelmed him. Bruce had folded his hands over his chest but his expression hadn’t changed, even as his eyes narrowed. Clark had never wanted to be telepathic more, so he settled for being annoyed and honest. 

“Bruce, you are a pain in the ass. You’re stubborn when you don’t need to be. For all you’ve defined and clarified your physical limits, you still only know the tiniest bit of your emotional capabilities. You’re confusing, and condescending, and nobody else can make sarcasm scary. I don’t even want to be friends with you, but, I love you.” 

Clark sighed and waited for the verdict. Batman took a deep breath and released all the tension from his body as he exhaled. “I hate having to ask for help. I hate the optimism that always comes back to bite you in the ass. You make yourself a target for everybody and yet you still expect the best out of people. Everyone thinks you’re perfect; except for you. I know you’re not perfect; but, I might, sort of love you for all of that.” 

He was glancing away, at the floor so he wouldn’t have to look at any version of himself or Clark in the mirrors, but Bruce was angrily muttering the truth. And Clark could understand his view of things. Batman hated that he had come to rely on Superman and sought him out for assistance. Bruce wasn’t one to give in to other people or useless emotions but in this instance he would. For Clark, and nobody else. 

So Clark was on him faster than humanly possible, careful not to bruise those lips in his enthusiasm. His hands were just starting to get frisky when Bruce caught his wrists and held them away from his body. Clark could have overpowered him, but thought Bruce had something special in mind. Instead he almost cried when Bruce spoke. 

“Be that as it may, you still need to be check for kryptonite before this goes any further. For my peace of mind, if nothing else.” 

Clark sighed, but pulled himself away from Bruce. That was Bruce being practical, thorough, and logical, and he probably wouldn’t love him so much if he was anything other than what he was. A few minutes in the cave to don cold weather gear and they were headed for the fortress. It felt like days as Bruce put the A.I. through every test it could perform on Clark. Bruce seemed surprised when he finally rendered a verdict. 

“You’re clean.” 

In the space of those words Clark lost his uniform and picked up where he had left off in Bruce’s closet. Kissing and hugging Bruce, he lifted both of them and headed for the bedroom. Bruce insisted on properly removing his gear instead of letting Clark rip it off, and Clark only let him have his way because the return trip to Gotham would be cold enough clothed. Clark almost lost it when a finally, finally naked Bruce turned to him with a serious expression and a hard-on. 

“We do need to determine if you are physically capable of enjoying this form of sexual expression.” 

As his mind was firmly set on sex, Clark didn’t quite get the meaning of that statement. “What?” 

Bruce sighed. “You’re not an idiot Clark, try and keep up. I want to know if you have a prostate gland or equivalent. So face down on the bed.” 

Clark flew happily into position. He didn’t really care what the results of Bruce’s experiment were, as he would find a way to keep having sex with the man regardless. Bruce straddled him and Clark braced himself for penetration. Bruce couldn’t hurt him so any lubrication would be for Bruce’s benefit but he sure wasn’t expecting what happened next. 

Bruce started trailing kisses down his back bone, massaging his ass. It was gentle, seductive and nothing like the scientific experiment Bruce’s voice had ordered. It was almost as if Bruce was memorizing every detail in case it never happened again. Clark opened his mouth to tell Bruce they would be doing this for the rest of their lives, when a hand slid between his ass checks. 

A gasp came out of his open mouth and he forgot what he was going to say in anticipation of where that hand was going. But it didn’t go there, it caressed and move all over but that spot. Then the other hand joined it and they spread him, and then something else was touching him, something that was not a hand. He thought of asking about lubrication to protect Bruce and started to say something, but then the tip entered. 

Clark hadn’t really known what to expect, but was a little disappointed. He just felt pressure as a foreign object entered him in a personal spot. Bruce was pushing forward though, so he decided to pretend to enjoy it for Bruce’s sake. Had to complete the experiment before he rendered his final verdict, after all. When he figured Bruce was a little over a finger length in, just past where a prostate would have been, he felt the urge to sigh. He didn’t have one after all. He was still hard as a rock for Bruce, but it was a disappointment. But Bruce pushed forward just a little more, and everything changed. Clark bucked with the sensation and heard a thud behind him even as the sensation lessened. He looked back to see a disgruntled Bat picking himself off the floor. 

“Shall I continue?” He growled. 

Clark blushed even as his voice answered without consulting his brain. “God, yes!” 

Then Bruce was back and reentering and Clark was so glad he was an alien. Instead of one prostate gland to aim for, it seemed his entire back entrance was lined with individual cells that immensely enjoyed a little friction. And Bruce was more than willing to provide that friction, at an agonizingly slow pace. Clark was about to protest when Bruce picked up the tempo. At some point, the pleasure was so great Clark was about to come or explode, except Bruce beat him to it. Each of those cells felt Bruce’s fluid and exploded individually, vibrant outbreaks of joy traveling downward as gravity pulled the fluid out. 

His release was the most exquisite thing he had ever experienced and he was perfectly content to lie there in drying fluids with Bruce’s weight on his back. For some strange reason, Bruce moved, and Clark growled into the bed. He hadn’t yet decided what to do about him leaving the bed, when Bruce returned with a warm cloth. He cleaned his fluids off Clark, who floated off the bed and hovered so Bruce could get his front also. Bruce responded by dropping the towel on Clark’s back and climbing into the sheets. A quick clean and Clark was cuddling up to his Valentine. 

“So, Clark. What is the verdict on our little experiment?” 

”Objectively, I would have to confess that I don’t have a prostate. But in the interest of full disclosure, I must point out that with whatever I do have it’s a wonder Kryptonians didn’t die out because the males refused to have sex with the females.” 

“Interesting hypothesis, but females may have had compensation, such as a fluid they excreted that acted as a drug. Also, as a technologically proficient society, they doubtless had devices to assist with coitus.” 

“Coitus technology, prurient experiments, and Monty Python? Wait, I just realized something!” Clark worked hard to put some dismay into his voice. ”It is easy to overlook, because of the athletic skill and impressive musculature, but you are a Nerd!” 

“I might have a lightsaber thumb drive and a sonic screwdriver, but that doesn’t make me a nerd.” Bruce managed to sound genuinely offended. “Science fiction is fertile ground for developing new technologies that might positively affect the outcome of a situation.” 

Throwing the covers back, Clark straddled Bruce with mischief in his smile. “Come on Bruce. Give me a nerdgasm.” 

Bruce folded his arms across his chest, and lifted one eyebrow at Clark. “That is not the correct application of that abstruse, idiomatic terminology.” 

Clark had to laugh, and he laughed until he was so hard he had to do something about it. Always and forever, Bruce was ready to assist. 

sB _Sb_ Bs


End file.
